Sancerre crew aids vessel in distress
It was a dark and stormy night …
Well, actually, it wasn’t quite sunset and it was a warm, dry spring evening. We were snuggly nestled between our bow and stern hooks in Fry’s anchorage at Santa Cruz and had just finished a big dinner. The sun was behind the mountains and we’d come on deck to see the last rays snuff out. 
About a quarter mile out, well beyond where folks normally anchor, we spied a 45-50 foot sailboat attempting to settle in for the night.
We knew it was too deep out there to moor bow and stern - something on the order of 70′, but our friends were not deterred. Time now: 1915.
They mucked around in deep water for another hour, turning on all of their lights - as we did - to avoid collision.
The outside anchorage proved untenable, and they moved as if to take a spot directly abeam and upwind. Time now: 2100.
They’ve got a small flashlight on the bow, but it doesn’t do much to light up the cliffs they are approaching. We bring out our high-beam and illuminate the rocks for them.
They cross our anchor line a time or two and finally settle in next to us. Alas, they can’t set both anchors and drift perilously close to the rock walls, then towards us. They’re less than a boat length away and ask, “What are we doing wrong?” We ask what kind of anchor they’re trying to use, but the answer is lost in the sound of wind and waves.
Time now 2130.
We suggest they try Prisoners Harbor. They keep on trying to anchor. The picture does not improve.
Time 2200.
They’ve crossed our stern. And are now downwind of us and well inshore. Our stern anchor is in 15′. They’re headed into the shore and their bow anchor, which finally does set, must be nearly in the small surf.
They’ve got a dinghy out and we guess that they’ll row the stern anchor out to a point upwind.
Time 2230
They’re 150′ away, but we hear their voices rise with anxiety and they shout to us that they’ve fouled their prop in their stern anchor rode.
They are in big trouble. They probably won’t sink, but they will beat the hell out of their boat on the rocks.
They ask for advice and we say call the Coast Guard. Is that a “Pan, Pan or a Mayday?” they ask.
We say MAYDAY.
In the meantime, we ask them if they have a line long enough to reach our boat. They bend 3 or 4 sheets together with some unused rode and we tell them to dinghy it over.
We take the line and put it on our winch and crank them off the rocks. We’re taking something of a chance here, doubling our weight and sail area. But we’re in luck and the wind will remains\ gentle all night.
They kedge out an anchor abeam to help hold them off the rocks and we all turn in, each crew keeping an uneasy anchor watch.
Time 2315.
We awake to huzzahs (did I mention they’re flying the Union Jack?). They’ve managed to clear their prop and are ready to get underway. But before they leave the anchorage, they dinghy over to say farewell and to leave us with a bottle of Her Majesty’s finest gin.
The final irony: just before this flap started I had pronounced that I “never have and never will raft up.”
Posted: May 6th, 2008 under Sailing.
Comments: 1
